


the physics of tight leather pants

by peppersnot



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cafe AU, College AU, M/M, Mello's Fashion Sense, and Near's thirst (tm)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2020-10-04 04:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppersnot/pseuds/peppersnot
Summary: If he’s a tourist, he’s a pretty rude one, Near thought to himself. He hoped it was just that the boy was having a bad day, because it would be a shame for someone who looked that good in leather to be an asshole.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this fic for months now and I'm only just getting to writing it. First time writing Death Note, so if you have any suggestions on how to improve characterization etc, please don't hesitate to let me know! 
> 
> Rating is for eventual mature content. Also, I love sassy Near. 
> 
> Thank you, Carly, for beta-ing!

Near noticed the boy immediately.

It could have been the way he was dressed – in _leather_, despite the heat, and a flashy jacket that was sliding halfway down one shoulder to put on display the upper half of admittedly well-toned arms. And that, with his platinum blond hair that was just slightly longer than what was socially acceptable wasn’t doing anything to help him look inconspicuous either. He had half of it pulled back into a top knot, and as he walked through the café, Near caught one silver earring glinting under the light in the boy’s left ear.

It could have been all of that, or it could have been the way he was yelling at the top of his lungs into a cell phone that was clasped so tightly in his hands, Near almost felt sorry for it.

There was also the fact that he looked vaguely familiar, and Near was _sure_ he’d heard that voice before, though he couldn’t quite place where and when he’d seen this guy before today. Definitely not in the café, because he tended to remember customers and their orders – which was he’d been put out here taking them, instead of back in the kitchen like he would have preferred – and he was sure this boy had never come in before.

Regardless of what it was, Near definitely noticed him immediately, despite the rush of people coming in for their morning coffee before work or classes. And well, it was kind of hard to miss someone screaming into a phone at nine in the morning when everyone else was sluggish and drowsy.

That, in itself, wasn’t anything special. Near noticed everything, even if only because the slightest of changes in his environment would irritate him, but it was the fact that he’d not only noticed this person, but paid attention long enough for him to temporarily forget that he was supposed to add whipped cream to the coffee in his hands that really stood out to him. This, of course, only made Near notice him more.

Which was even more surprising, because this person – barging into the café like he owned the world and pushing through the crowd to the counter in a way that could only be considered rude – was _exactly_ the kind of person Near very pointedly did _not_ like; and yet, as he approached, despite the half of his brain telling him he’d be better off handing the counter over to Halle so he wouldn’t have to make awkward conversation, Near decided the boy was interesting.

“Caffe mocha,” the boy said, approaching the counter. He tapped at the screen of his phone a few times before turning around, making Near notice the person behind him – another boy who looked about the same age, this one with glaring red hair and Near wondered for a moment if hair dye was a new fad he’d missed. Not that he needed it, with all the people who’d asked him if his hair was natural or not, so far. It was almost as if they’d never heard of albinism.

“Matt, hurry up and order, we have to go.”

“Anything,” Matt said, without looking up from the Nintendo switch in his hands. “Get whatever you’re getting.”

“Two caffe mochas,” the boy said, turning back to Near. “One tall and one grande. And I want them _fast_.”

“I can’t make the machine go any faster than it does,” Near told him, punching numbers into the cash register, and before the boy could yell at him for stating facts, added: “Would you like to pay by card or cash?”

“Card,” the boy said, scowling at him. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, and for a second Near found himself wondering how it had managed to fit in there at all, considering how _tight_ those pants were. And they were _leather_. “And hurry up, anyway.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he shot a sickly sweet, obnoxiously fake smile at the customer, taking the card he’d slid across the counter.

_Mihael Keehl, _the name was. Near wondered if he was a tourist, and yet the name sounded awfully familiar.

_If he’s a tourist, he’s a pretty rude one_, he thought to himself. He hoped it was just that the boy was having a bad day, because it would be a shame for someone who looked that good in leather to be an asshole.

Not that it mattered, since Near wasn’t ever going to see him again. He was ashamed to have ever had had that thought at all.

“Your name?” He looked up at the customer, handing the card back. Not that he needed it now, since he’d seen it already, but he didn’t want the guy to know he’d been looking at his card so closely. And for some reason, he had the strangest feeling this person didn’t go by _Mihael_ at all. He wasn’t sure where that thought had come from.

“Huh? Why do you need my name?”

“There’s a lot of people.” Near nodded towards the line behind him. “You can sit down, we’ll call you when your order is ready.”

“Huh,” Mihael looked around. “That’s a thing? Well, it’s Mello.”

Near blinked. “Mellow?”

“Yes, Mello. You got a problem with that?”

“I dunno, I’d say ‘angry’ would have been a better choice.”

There was silence for a moment. To Near, it felt like an eternity, his words replaying themselves over and over in his head as he wondered whether or not he was going to get fired for being rude to a customer. That train of thought was interrupted by a loud laugh from Matt, and a long series of expletives from Mello himself.

“You little shithead,” he growled, reaching over the counter to grab the front of his shirt and pull him up. Mello was significantly taller, making Near rise up to the tip of his toes and he watched as Mello’s eyes fell to the nametag pinned neatly over his chest. He barked out a laugh. “You’re really making fun of _my_ name when yours is _Near_?”

“Woah, Mello, calm down.” Matt tugged at Mello’s arm to pull him back. Uselessly, since Matt was still holding onto his switch with one hand and Mello was too strong for him anyway – Near had known, from just one look at his exposed biceps. He wondered why he’d ever picked a fight with someone like that at all, even if unintentionally. His brain really should have known better.

Still he didn’t think Mello, despite his clear temper issues, would resort to violence. At least he hoped he wouldn’t.

“What’s wrong with my name?”

“What’s wrong with _mine_?”

“I was just confused,” Near told him, bringing a hand up to carefully loosen the grip of his fingers. “I saw your name on your card, so I didn’t expect a different one.”

Mello scowled. “Then did you even fucking _ask?”_

“In case it wasn’t your card.” They were getting a lot of looks now. The back of his neck was starting to prickle with self-conciousness. If he didn’t smooth things over soon, Gevanni and Halle would come in from the back and he’d have to explain that he’d made fun of a customer’s name. It wouldn’t get him into trouble, he was sure of that, but he didn’t want them to have to deal with any consequences because of him. “I was just making sure.”

“You very clearly said ‘angry is a better choice’,” Mello snapped. “I fucking heard you.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make. Mellow is a word, you know.”

“Well, it’s fucking _Mello_. That’s M-E-L-L-O, Mello. Fuck you.”

“Okay,” Near said. “I apologize.”

“Damn right,” Mello told him, shooting him a dirty look. He seemed to realize he was holding up the queue, and also attracting attention of the bad kind, so he pushed Matt towards an empty table, leaving Near to deal with the other customers.

It was only later, about three or so hours after Mello had left, offering a sarcastic _thank you_ in return for his coffee that Near realized why he’d looked so familiar.

Mihael Keehl, the name that showed up right under his on the Dean’s list every semester, with a CGPA only one point off.

Near vowed himself to silence.

* * *

He didn’t expect Mello to come back. Sure, the café was close to campus, so most of the students frequented it, but Near had been working here for the past three years and Mello had never shown up before. In fact, if all the digging Near had done for the past week was accurate, Mello specifically avoided coffee shops because he didn’t like the ‘smell’ of them.

For someone who was always seen holding a bar of chocolate, Near wondered why the smell of coffee could be something to avoid, but he supposed it was a good thing Mello didn’t come around often. If someone as loud and rude as him were a regular, Near might just quit his job.

He was considering that now, when Mello entered the coffee shop only ten minutes before Near’s shift ended. Luck just wasn’t with him these days.

Matt – Near had managed to identify him as a computer science major at the same university – was not with Mello today, although even if he were, he’d probably just have been playing his games and wouldn’t really be a presence at all.

Mello looked around a bit, seemingly surprised that the café was relatively empty at this time of the day, and scowled when his eyes met Near’s.

“You’re still here, I see,” he said when he reached the counter.

“I work here.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” His eyes flitted down to the nametag. “_Near_.”

“May I take your order?”

“What kind of name is Near, anyway,” Mello said, ignoring the question. He crossed his arms – the sleeveless shirt meant Near didn’t miss the way his muscles flexed with the action – and raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, ‘Mello’ is just a nickname because it’s easier to go by that than have people fuck up the pronunciation of my real name.”

“Near is also a nickname.” The words came out before he could stop them. He’d never been one to divulge too much information – and especially not to a _stranger_. He didn’t know why he seemed to be so _talkative_ around Mello. Maybe it was some kind of fight or flight reflex.

“Well, what’s your real name, then?”

“…I don’t want to tell you.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“We don’t know each other.”

Mello blinked. Then he laughed out loud, looking thoroughly amused. “The first step to _knowing_ someone is to find out their name, wouldn’t you agree?”

Near paused for a second. The conversation was getting too personal for his liking and he just wanted to go back to taking orders instead. This is not what he’d had in mind when he’d first made the mistake of opening his mouth with Mello around. Small talk was not his forte, and definitely not with angry, loud people who seemed to have him on their bad side.

“No,” he said, eventually. Mello opened his mouth to respond but Near interrupted, having had enough of the discussion. “May I take your order?”

“Chocolate milkshake.” He clearly didn’t put much thought into it, since he hadn’t even hesitated. That was probably to be expected, given what Near had learnt about Mello’s chocolate consumption – how did he not have diabetes yet?! – but he wished Mello would think about it just a bit harder, if only to keep him occupied with something other than his name.

He nodded, punching numbers into the register and hoping Mello wouldn’t have anything else to say to him.

Luck _clearly_ wasn’t on his side though.

“Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before?” Mello said, frowning.

“You have seen me before.”

“I have?”

“Yes. You came here last week.”

“You fucking – you _know_ that’s not what I mean.”

Near shrugged. “Then where else could you have seen me?”

Mello considered that for a moment before shrugging. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket – leather pants again, Near noted, and these seemed to be even tighter than the other ones. He hadn’t known that was possible.

He wondered what it was like to take them off, and then realizing how that would sound to anyone out of context, quickly erased that thought from his head. Not that anyone could hear his thoughts, but Near seemed to have developed a ridiculous habit of being talkative around angry blonds, so that was dangerous territory to be stepping into.

He wasn’t going to be taking anyone’s pants off, thank you, and _specifically_ not Mello’s.

“You know _my_ name,” Mello said, sliding a few bills across the counter. “How is this fair?”

“I didn’t ask you for it.”

“Yes, you did,” Mello snapped. “And you even made _fun_ of it.”

“No,” Near began, and paused. Technically, Mello was right. He kind of _had_ made fun of Mello’s name after asking for it. “Well. Okay.”

“So.” Mello leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter and raising an eyebrow. Bending over made the height difference a little bit smaller, but Near was still short. He’d never minded being short, because he didn’t care, but for some reason today he felt ridiculously self-conscious. Either it was the fact that Mello was too tall, or the fact that he was looking at him directly in the eye and was close enough for Near to see, on the left side of his face, faint outlines of a scar that had faded out over time. He wondered what had happened. “What will you do to repay me?”

“Repay you?”

“You know my name. You stole it from my card, then found out my nickname by asking and directly made fun of it,” Mello said. “So repay me.”

“Um. How?”

“Tell me your name.”

Near blinked once, twice, three times. “Are – are you _flirting_ with me?”

There was a pause. It wasn’t very long, as pauses go, but Near noticed the way Mello’s eyes widened just the slightest bit, and gave him enough time to think _oh no, what did I just say_, before Mello was throwing back his head and bursting into laughter loud enough for the few people around to turn and look.

Near had never regretted _words_ so much in his life.

“Me? Flirting? With _you_?” Mello managed between laughs. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“It was just a question,” Near mumbled. He was supremely thankful when Halle stepped out of the kitchen to hand him a chocolate milkshake, giving him something to focus on besides the heat creepying up the back of his neck.

“What, did you want me to flirt with you?” Mello asked, taking the plastic glass Near slid across the table.

“No,” Near said, honestly. His face felt warm now. “I was just making sure you weren’t.”

“Why?” Mello leaned forward again, taking a sip of his milkshake and for reasons Near couldn’t bring himself to decipher, his attention was drawn to the end of the straw disappearing between Mello’s lips, pulled up into a grin that felt less angry than he’d assumed Mello to be.

He looked genuinely amused, and Near couldn’t help but notice Mello was ridiculously handsome, in a way he hadn’t expected he’d ever think someone could be.

“You think you’re too good for me?”

“What? No.” Near frowned. “I’m not interested.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

Near sighed. “Do you _want_ me to be interested in you?”

“I was just asking. Just like you were _just asking_.” Seemingly not interested anymore, Mello stood back up, taking his milkshake and lifting a hand in acknowledgement. “See you around, _Near_.”

Near watched him leave, half hoping he wouldn’t.

* * *

It was the other half, that either didn’t care, or almost even anticipated seeing Mello again that won over, because when Mello stepped into the café again three days later, Near was hardly surprised. In fact, he didn’t even bat an eyelash, simply looking up from the mini Lego Mike Wazowski set he was building at the sound of heavy footsteps and with a sigh, stood up straight when he saw who it was.

“Hello,” he said, moving to stand behind the register. “May I take your order?”

“What’s with the formality? It’s just me.”

“Yes,” Near said, dryly. “So it is. May I take your order?”

Mello scowled, leaning forward again on the counter like he’d done the other day to look Near right in the eye. He seemed to have a habit of doing it, and he wasn’t the only one.

Usually, it wasn’t a problem. Near didn’t really like people stepping into his space but the counter was wide enough to keep a distance, and customers tended to lean on it a lot while they thought about what they wanted.

What _was_ a problem was this was Mello, and he wasn’t trying to decide on a drink. He was leaning in just for the purpose of being close to Near – to intimidate him, probably, though it wasn’t working – and in doing so, he was giving Near a very lovely view down the low cut V-neck he was wearing. Toned and smooth; he obviously worked out pretty often.

Not like Near couldn’t already tell by the muscles on his arms, and the tightness of his pants.

He immediately lowered his eyes to the register.

He was _not_ going to ogle the same guy three times on three different days.

“Is it part of your _job_ to be a little bitch?” Mello said. He didn’t seem to have noticed that Near had been looking in the wrong place. Either that, or he didn’t care. It was probably both. “Every time I talk to you, you piss me off.”

“I’m being polite,” Near told him, pretending to be very interested in punching random numbers into the machine, even though Mello hadn’t placed an order yet. “Does politeness anger you?”

“_You_ anger me,” Mello snapped. “You’re not being _polite_, you’re being a condescending little shit.”

Near blinked. Was that how he was coming across? Condescending? He’d figured Mello would be the kind of person who’d take the wrong meaning, but he didn’t think he’d come across as _condescending_.

“I’m being polite,” he said again, though hesitantly. “Do you want me to be rude?”

“I want you to act like a normal person,” Mello said. “You know, like literally everyone around you.”

“This is how I am, normally.”

“Then you’re a piece of shit.”

“Then why do you keep coming back?”

Mello scoffed, pushing himself up straight. “This is the only café close enough to campus that doesn’t involve taking a big-ass detour on the way from my apartment. I’m not coming for _you_.”

_That’s a relief_, Near thought silently to himself. Not that he’d ever thought Mello was coming because of him – of course not, what an absurd thought – but he’d entertained it a few times, and concluded that if that were the case, he would have had no idea how to behave.

“I see,” he said out loud, nodding and deciding now was a good time to steer the conversation back to what was important. “Would you like to place an order?”

“Is that fucking _Mike Wazowski_.” The words were put more as a statement than a question and Near followed Mello’s gaze to the mini Lego set he’d hidden behind the register at the sound of the door.

“It’s half a Mike Wazowski,” Near said, because it was. The top half wasn’t fully built yet, and both arms weren’t yet attached to the body, instead lying in the plastic bag with the other tiny Lego pieces. “I’m not done yet.”

“You’re such a _nerd_.”

In any other situation, Near would have thought he might be getting insulted – not that he ever really cared when people called him names – but Mello didn’t seem like he meant it badly. He sounded almost amused, reaching out to carefully pick up the stand Mike was being built on, and Near didn’t miss the way he made sure to glance up for permission.

There was something almost similar to fascination in his eyes, as he snorted at Mike’s blocky body.

People usually left Near alone. Either they just didn’t like him, or didn’t want to approach him, or the fact that he barely ever approached anyone else and stayed curled in on himself seemed to accurately give off the impression that he much preferred being on his own.

In middle and high school, he’d have been the poster boy for bullying, but the orphanage had a homeschooling policy, and bullying wasn’t really a problem at university. At least not his.

Still, whenever people did talk to him out of necessity – group projects, during classes, at the library, the rare times he went to the cafeteria – there was always some sort of pride in the way they spoke to him, condescension in their voice as they pointed out he spent all his time studying, or solving puzzles on his phone, what a _nerd_ he was.

It didn’t bother him. He didn’t particularly care what he looked like to other people, as long as they didn’t trouble him, and he was fully prepared to defend himself when need be, though there was only so much he could do with what little strength he had in his arms.

The fascination he was witnessing now, in Mello’s eyes, felt real.

The way _nerd_ slipped off his tongue felt like a compliment, and Near had received many compliments in his life, and yet none of them felt as genuine as this one.

Funny, he thought, and swallowed the strange fuzziness that had suddenly come and settled into his stomach.

“You’re going to break him,” he said, reaching to take Mike back and setting him carefully behind the register again. Mello snorted.

“You called it ‘him’.”

Near paused a moment, and shook his head. “May I take your order?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mello pulled out his wallet and slid his card across the marble countertop. “The usual.”

Ten minutes, and a caffe mocha later, Near watched Mello leave the café, wondering if it wasn’t too late for him to find a job somewhere else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry hahaha....
> 
> this is mostly unbeta-ed but my aim rn is to Write, not to Write Amazing Shit but yeah. mello/near hello

There was a week of peace and quiet during which Near considered maybe Mello had decided he just didn’t care enough about the café or their drinks to come back. Honestly, that might have been for the best, since Mello had already caused enough of a disturbance in Near’s life.

Though, if he were being honest with himself, Mello being there or not made no real difference because either way, Near found himself thinking about him, and wondering if maybe he’d really been so condescending last time that he’d managed to make a customer decide never to come back. That wasn’t a very nice thought, but at the same time, Near had no idea what exactly he’d done wrong.

Besides, Mello hadn’t seemed like he was  _ angry _ when he’d left. He’d snorted at the Mike Wazaoski set once again, saying, ‘bye, nerd’ before he’d left with a smile on his face, and Near had thought maybe he hadn’t really been so condescending after all.

Maybe he’d been wrong about that, then.

A week wasn’t even really all that much, he knew that. He knew it was irrational of him to think so hard about a customer who’d come in only thrice, and at half-a-week intervals as it is, but on the sixth day of Mello’s absence, Near sat at the counter with a new mini Lego set – this time Lightning McQueen – and wondered if it wasn’t  _ too  _ much for him to go through the student database at the campus library to find out more about Mello.

He frowned to himself, fixing one of the tiny wheels onto the model. That was definitely a bad idea. He was absolutely  _ not _ going to ogle a rude guy, and then stalk him, all within the same month. It was completely irrelevant that he was attractive.

And anyway, Near didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, Mello was just a customer, and nothing else.

It was a slow day today, being a Saturday, and there weren’t a lot of people coming in. The quiet was welcome, and Near managed to finish his entire Lego set without having to get up and receive a lot of people. He pushed it along the counter, testing the wheels.

“That’s a shitty looking McQueen,” said a voice, and Near jumped, looking up with wide eyes and a thumping heart to see Mello standing on the other side of the counter, looking at the model with a raised eyebrow. “What is with Lego and making everything look so fucking funny?”

Near blinked, taking in the sight of Mello – not wearing leather today, and he was grateful for that, because it was sweltering outside and he would have died just by thinking about someone actually wearing leather in this heat. Instead, he was wearing a plain tank top, with his arms out for everyone to see – and Near  _ saw _ , though he did his best to keep his eyes on Mello’s face – and his hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Near watched a drop of sweat slide down Mello’s neck and down under his shirt, and had to look back at the Lego set that Mello was now pushing along the countertop to snap himself back to reality.

“They’re fun to make,” he said, registering the words. “It doesn’t really matter how they look.”

“Sure, but I’m still going to laugh at them.”

Near shrugged. “Are you going to order, or are you just going to ask me questions about my hobbies?”

“Okay, Mr. Smartass,” Mello said, and much to Near’s surprise, shot him a grin. “Chocolate milkshake, but with extra whipped cream. If I have any amount of coffee right now, I will die.”

Near nodded, tapping at the screen in front of him to send the order to the back. 

“So, about last time.” 

Near looked up, from the register. Mello was still playing with the Lego set, pushing it with one finger and making the clunky wheels bounce the car along the marble countertop. 

“I wasn’t trying to be rude,” he said.

Near blinked. “I thought you said I was the one being rude.”

“Yeah.” Mello’s finger stopped, but he kept his eyes on the Lego. Near wondered if he was avoiding looking at him on purpose. But that would imply he was either embarrassed or ashamed, and neither of the two seemed to make sense. “I said that, but that was rude of me.”

Frowning, Near went over that in his head. Logic seemed to point to the fact that Mello was probably…apologizing for being rude, but common sense told him that wasn’t possible. In the first place, Near hadn’t even registered that Mello had ever been rude to him, much less been offended enough (or at all) by it to need the apology that Mello was definitely trying to give him right now.

“Are you trying to apologize?” He asked, carefully, still unsure.

Mello looked up then, scowling, but his cheeks were dusted pink in what was definitely embarrassment, and some part of Near’s mind said that it was a good look on him, before the thought was instantly tossed into the garbage. 

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No.” He was still confused. “No, I don’t.”

“Good.” Mello stood up, flicking at the Lego set with one finger and looked a lot less uncomfortable than he had been a few seconds ago. “Where’s my drink?”

“It’s being prepared. You’ll have to wait a few minutes.”

“Oh. Right.”

Mello flicked at the Lego set again before pushing it along the counter, muttering a curse under his breath when it turned over. For a moment Near wondered if there was something he was supposed to say in response, but there was really nothing to respond to. It felt like Mello wanted to say something though, and while Near wasn’t the kind to probe into these things, he was starting to get curious about what it could be that had Mello so flustered.

That was definitely embarrassment on his face - he’d put that together with the ‘apology’, but if it had already passed, why would Mello be embarrassed? In fact, it was starting to get awkward, because Mello was still playing with the Lego, which meant Near couldn’t occupy himself with something, so he turned back to the register and started mentally listing down all the orders he’d taken from people during the day.

It was a few minutes before Halle brought the milkshake out front. If he were anyone else, he might have missed the recognition on her face upon seeing Mello, but she didn’t say anything so Near didn’t either.

Mello took a big sip of the drink as soon as Near handed it over.

“Oh, that feels good. It’s fucking boiling outside.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you  _ ever _ have anything useful to say?”

“What am I supposed to say to that?”

“You should agree with me!”

“I did agree with you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Mello said, resting his elbows on the counter again and leaning forward, stepping way too close into Near’s personal space, even with the barrier in between. He considered stepping back, but for some reason, that felt too much like conceding, so he opted for leaning back instead, trying not to look too closely at Mello’s face. Though it was a nice face to look at.

Not that he was  _ looking _ .

In some distant corner of his mind, he thought Mello might be wearing some kind of makeup, because there was no way his lips could naturally be  _ that _ pink- 

“Do you ever go  _ outside _ ?” Mello was saying, and Near snapped back to reality. “Or do you just spend your entire life rotting in this dumb cafe?”

“It’s not dumb,” Near said, because it wasn’t. “And I do go outside.”

“Classes don’t count.”

“...why are you asking me this?”

“See?” Mello scoffed, pushing himself upright and taking a sip of his drink again, this time letting the straw linger at his mouth even after he was done. Near tried not to let it distract him. “You should go to the club or college parties or something.”

_ College parties?  _ Did he really seem like the kind of person who liked those? He wasn’t a fan of them - in fact, that was a mild way to put it. Near hated parties. They were noisy and full of drunk, horny people, and Near didn’t want to associate with them in any way whatsoever. Though of course, Mello wouldn’t have any way of knowing that, but he didn’t think he gave off the impression that he was someone who liked parties even at a first glance.

“I hate college parties,” he said bluntly. “Why would I want to go there?”

“To have  _ fun _ ,” Mello said, rolling his eyes. “They’re awesome if you go with at least one person you know. Even more awesome if you wanna go on your own and just lose it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, you should try one anyway.” He dug around in one of his pockets, pulling out a crumpled up piece of paper which he folded out and placed on the counter. “Here, come to this address tonight by 7, I’ll show you how to have fun.”

There were  _ way _ too many innuendos in that statement, though Near wasn’t sure if it was intentional. It couldn’t be what Mello meant, right? He didn’t look like the kind of person who’d make such bold advances. Especially not to someone like Near, and he’d even said that he wasn’t interested in him. Though maybe that had changed. 

Near frowned and reached for the paper. It was a sticky note with an address scrawled onto it in messy handwriting. It was somewhat close to his dorm, actually, but of course, that was irrelevant. He’d never go to an actual college party. 

Looking up, he raised an eyebrow at Mello. “I thought you said you weren’t interested in me.”

“What the fuck? Of course I’m not.”

“Then what is this?” He held the paper up. “It just sounds like you’re inviting me to a party with you.”

_ And making sexual proposition _ s, he kept to himself. He didn’t think Mello would take that one too well, and Near really didn’t want an outburst right now. Even if it  _ did _ sound dirty.

“Yeah, and? Does that mean I like you or some shit? You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying.”

Mello snorted, picking up his drink. “Don’t read too much into it. See ya later,  _ Near. _ ”

There was something in his voice as he said his name. Near had never heard so many emotions in his own name before. He did consider ‘Near’ to be much more personal than Nate and most often, feeling like ‘Near’ had more depth to it was more about the way people used it and how many, instead of it being something  _ special _ like it was worth remembering. Near didn’t think he’d seen Mello look at his nametag today. Though it wasn’t  _ impossible. _

In any case, he thought, stuffing the scrap into the back pocket of his jeans, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to the party anyway, so it was fine. 

* * *

Mello didn’t mean sex, obviously. After careful deliberation, Near decided it was just bad wording, and he’d only been trying to say that Near’s social life was bland - which to most people, it was, though Near himself wasn’t particularly bothered - and not making any kind of propositions. Of course.

It wouldn’t make sense for him to do that anyway, considering they’d met only a handful of times, of which two included Mello getting angry at him. Not to mention the fact that Near had also made fun of his name, even if it hadn’t been intentional.

There was also the fact that people like Mello just didn’t feel anything for people like Near. He knew that, without anyone having to say anything. So it didn’t make any sense for him to assume that Mello had any kind of ulterior motives when giving Near that slip of paper.

In fact, Near had fully planned on tossing it into the trash once Mello had left, but for some reason, it was still there in the back pocket of the pants that he was still wearing, even though he’d reached the dorm about twenty minutes ago.

His pajamas were hanging up on the hook behind his door, and Near eyed them for a moment as he contemplated the trade-off. He could easily change and throw the slip away, pretend never to have gotten it. He’d been looking forward to building the model train set that had arrived yesterday, and it wasn’t as if his presence was something Mello would really care about, anyway.

Still, he was still in jeans. Socially acceptable clothing. And the address  _ was _ close by.

Whether Mello meant sex or not - a ridiculous thing to contemplate, in the first place - it would be easy for Near to confirm. He’d just drop by and see what was happening, and if things didn’t feel right, he could just come back.

Sighing, he looked at the train set, still in its box, sitting unopened by the door. 

_ Ridiculous _ , he thought. Why would he ever even  _ consider _ it?

* * *

Mello didn’t mean sex. 

He knew that, from the start. There was no way Mello meant anything more than just a party. In fact, now that he thought about it, Near wondered why he’d spent so much time considering the likelihood of having been propositioned, because Mello had brought up parties in the same conversation, so it was much more likely that he’d been talking about a party.

And a party it was, in full swing. Near could hear the music, even from his spot outside the gate of the house that looked like it would burst from the sound itself. There was no way he was going in there.

Then again, it wasn’t like he’d expected much else. It was definitely a college party, and seemed like just the kind of thing Mello would enjoy. Not that he knew Mello very well, but he knew people  _ like _ Mello, and he was certain they’d be here if they were invited. In fact, they might even be. Which just gave him more reason not to go inside, because if he were to run into any of those people, he would dig himself a hole through the flooring of the house and spend the rest of his life there.

Why had he bothered to come, again?

“Oh hey,” said a voice behind him, and Near spun around. “You’re the one from the cafe.”

“Matt,” he said in acknowledgement, before throwing a pensive glance at the house he was standing in front of. “Is this Mello’s house?”

“Huh? Oh nah. Do you want it to be?” Matt raised an eyebrow. “I can take you to Mello’s house, but Mello is probably here.”

“I don’t want to go to Mello’s house,” Near said, quickly. “I’m leaving.”

“Already? You haven’t even gone inside!”

“I don’t plan to.”

“Oh come on.” Matt reached out and grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. Without the switch to distract him, he was strong enough to hold Near back, much to his dismay. “At least say hi to Mello, if he gave you an invite.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Well, I guess not. But you should say hi, anyway.”

Resisting seemed to be futile, since Near had already been dragged halfway up the porch, so he gave in and let Matt pull him to the door. Silently, he hoped he’d find Mello by the entrance so he could inform him never to invite him to parties again, and leave.

The door opened, and Near was almost pushed back by the sound of the music and smell of alcohol, and some part of him wondered if it would have been better for Mello to have been propositioning him instead.

* * *

Sex was starting to seem like a much better option than this, Near thought, as he let Matt pull him through the crowd of people, with his hands clamped over his ears. There were too many people, and Near made a mental note to soak all his clothes and himself in disinfectant when he got home. If there was something he hated more than crowds, it was having to make his way through said crowds, and having to touch all those people in the process. 

Even making his way through was a lot tougher than it should have been, because he had his hands held tightly to his ears to try and block out the music. He could feel it drumming in his ears even though all of that, and his heartbeat seemed to have synced up with the rhythm. He hated it.

Matt turned to give him a look and said something Near didn’t hear - even if he hadn’t been holding his hands up, he didn’t think he would have been able to hear Matt over all the music, anyway.

“Did you say something?” he said, before realizing Matt probably couldn’t hear him either. 

Matt shook his head, and pointed to his left. One look told Near they had found their target. Unfortunately, said target was sitting on a sofa with a group of people in one of the rooms - each of whom looked drunker than the next - and looked like he was on the brink of intoxication himself. Near made a face.

Of course, there was alcohol. What kind of college party  _ doesn’t  _ have alcohol? He made a face to himself. He was going to leave.

Leaving meant turning around and going through that entire crowd of people all over again, though, and while the thought of freedom in the nighttime wind was nice, Near didn’t think he had it in him to face that kind of agony so soon after he’d finally been released from it. Matt had disappeared somewhere, so he was on his own. Sighing, Near turned and stepped into the room.

Mello looked up as Near approached, and he must not have been  _ entirely _ drunk, because he smirked and managed to bring out the voice he used with Near at the cafe, and said, “Well,  _ look  _ who it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Near PLEASE calm your thirst


End file.
